


Wear This For Me, One Out Of Suits With Fortune

by Saraswati



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Liam, Bottom Niall, Cisgender, Crossdressing, Feminization, Gender Related, Harry has an Off Campus Apartment, Lingerie, M/M, Mild Smut, Multi, Oswego, SUNY Oswego, Tequila, Top Harry, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 04:23:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4652121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraswati/pseuds/Saraswati
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is persuaded by an enigmatic classmate, Harry, to go weekend drinking with his group of friends, and do other things. Harry wakes up the next morning to find a job unfinished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wear This For Me, One Out Of Suits With Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this over a year ago, but never had the courage to post it. I'm a long-time lurker and this is my first work. I want to know whether people like this story and if I should write the other chapters planned.

Harry twitched his arm, the first signs of wakefulness. His leg followed next; he could feel sensations of hot flesh clinging to it as his awareness descended the the limb. Finally, his eye burst open as consciousness reached the dullest corners of his mind. The eyes took in the faint sunbeams piercing through the curtained windows. His eyes immediately darted at the bedside alarm clock.

10:00 a.m. Exactly.

He could see he was in his bed, in his apartment. Harry's first smell of the day came into focus: lavender perfume, mixed with a feminine rose scent that clashed and made the whole concoction seem cloying. Then there was a note of sex, too. Naturally. Harry brought all of his attention to his body. Weaved into a thicket of limbs, it would be difficult to extract himself without waking one of the owners of the appendages that hemmed him in. Craning his neck upward, he counted every arm and leg. Eight, excluding his own. Why wasn't it 12? The next room, he thought. The four missing parts were in the next room. Mentally, he chided himself. Why hadn't he sealed the deal last night? No matter. Soon enough, maybe tonight. Everything in its own season.

He slid his right arm upward ever so slowly. It brushed past another's leg with lace stocking tops, up through soft skin and silk bodice material, and finally a bra strap he was careful not to get caught in. Harry brought his newly freed right arm up to his head and in smooth motion dove his fingers into the mop of curls on his head. This wasn't going to work. They were too snuggled, the three of the them.

Harry tried the next best thing. He returned his hand to the stocking top and traced a line up the other body's back, lingering at the bottom in spandex panties. Then he continued up a taut back. A yawn. Liam was stirring. So Harry sped up, quickly crooked his hand around Liam's head and moved in to gently kiss his lips. He applied the pressure of a butterfly landing on milkweed. "Shhh," Harry whispered. "We have to be quiet." Liam responded with a nod, and Harry could see the sparkle of black eyeshadow glint over Laim's lids because of the gesture. Liam silently, but as rapidly as could be expected under the circumstances, withdrew his arms from over Harry, and relaxed the legs that clutched him. He moved off the bed and stood upright.

Clang, Clang! was the noise his bangles made as they slid together on his arm. Liam forgot he was wearing them. His second arm rushed to grab the metal, cease the offending vibrations. For a moment, the quiet between them deepened--grew until it was almost excessive. Harry was concerned that the third body might just wake from lack of whitenoise. Harry removed himself from the bed, stooped to collect his white tee-shirt and boxer shorts from the floor. He looked back at that third body still asleep. Strapped into a pristine white bridal bustier, garter straps tugging at neon green stockings that hugged his smooth legs and led all the way down to fire-engine red polished toes. God, Niall was so sexy like this.

And with that, Harry turned away from the lighted windows, wrapped his hand around Liam's waist, and drew back the sliding door so they could both leave the room.

_____

 

[ _9 hours earlier_ ]

 

"AUGHhhh," the moan shot through the apartment. Zayn couldn't tell which of the boys it belonged to. He struggled to get off the couch, knocking over a shot glass filled with tequila in the process. It had been meant for Niall, before he suddenly retired to the bedroom with Harry. Liam had left one too when he went behind the sliding doors. Liam had promised to come back and finish it, but after 5 minutes of waiting Zayn downed that shot also: lick of salt off his hand, tossing the liquid back into his throat and quickly chomping into the palliative lime. His face contorted into that classic ick gesture, with his cheeks forming a vacuum before attempting to migrate as a unit back into his head.

Despite how many shots he had already ingested, Zayn could manage this last because tequila is a system. Salt, shot, lime. That's how it goes: salt shot lime. It was muscle memory. Zayn thought back to the gym. The weight machines were the same way. Six days a week his routine was lift, curl, press. Accumulating enough lift, curl, presses had left Zayn stronger, leaner. Lift, Curl, Press. Whether is was drunkenness--salt, shot, lime--or vascularity--lift, curl, press--everything man walks toward with purpose requires a system, Zayn thought. Even one as simple as 'one foot in front of the other.' Zayn relied a lot on systems, just like anyone everyone does, but him fewer than most.

"MMMummPHH," came another cry from the bedroom. Followed by a sound of flesh smacking flesh.

Putting one foot in front of the other was just what Zayn was having trouble with as he struggled to the door. He reached down to steady himself and compensate for his drunkenness, and when one step began to pinch, he thought to readjust himself. Driving his hands into his jeans, he reconnoitered his junk. Then he touched something foreign. Lace? Yes, it was a pair of lace panties. Odd, Zayn thought. He had never worn lace panties before, or any other women's clothing for that matter. It wasn't something he did. Then, through the mental fog he remembered why. Harry.  

In his hazed perception, he very unstealthily arrived at the sliding door to the bedroom by knocking into it with a thud. He pressed his ear up to the door hungry to hear what was on the other side. Hungry like a gossip if hungry for another slice of the human drama, which is always so canny.

"AhhhMmmUGH" was what he heard from the other side, muffled through the doorway. He couldn't make out words; were they words? But the utterance had a rhythm to it. Up, lower, way up. Zayn repeated it in his head as he waited to hear more. "AhhMmmUGH." There was a music to it. He pressed his ear further into the wood, but nothing more came through the sliding doors. And then it occurred to him. He could look. Just a peek--that's all he would want. If he raised his left arm, pressed his nail into the space between both doors and pried just a smidge, he could see inside. Raise, press, pry. That's all he would need to do. What was Harry doing in there? Why had Liam and Niall suddenly disappeared with him? Which one was making those musical moans? Raise, press, pry. All his answers were on the other side.

"AWWHHH," came another sound worming its way through the door. Zayn kneeled closer to the wooden floor.

The surface began to make an unfavorable impression on his knees. He looked straight at the crack between the door, a little wider at the bottom than the middle where he had just been. "Don't stop Harry." Zayn could hear more at this level. He could make out words. Raise, press, pry. That's all he needed to do. All his burning curiousities could be quenched. Raise, press, pry, Zayn repeated to himself. But the last shot had finally hit his stomach, and the room began to spin.

"More!"

Defiantly Zayn recited the words mentally one more time. Raise, press, pry. He reached out; raised his hand. And that was as far into the system as he got before he blacked out on Harry's floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! There's more after the cliffhanger so please leave a comment or kudos if you want more of this story.
> 
> I wrote this over a year ago, but never had the courage to post it. I'm a long-time lurker and this is my first work. I want to know whether people like this story and if I should write the other chapters planned.


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